At 7 a.m. on a cold Saturday morning at Santa Fe's Convention Center, nearly 100 people are lined up for the chance to buy a piece of New Mexico history in the form of the many belongings of Bill Richardson, who died in September.
As some of the late governor's estate went on sale on Saturday, hundreds came to see what was left of the life of a man who in addition to being governor and a congressman was the U.S. ambassador to the United Nations, U.S. energy secretary and a hostage negotiator around the world.
"We're Bill Richardson enthusiasts," said Bonnie Storch, one of the early birds. "I worked for him as a teenager. I worked for his campaign back in 2003."
She said Richardson brought a spark to New Mexico and credits him with growing the film industry here. And her husband David said proudly that he had been considered something of a Richardson lookalike.
"I had met him once. It was at a restaurant here in Santa Fe, and he kind of had a persona that was larger than life. And so I always looked up to him," he said.
He is looking for a memento of a man he admired, perhaps a ring.
"Almost like a papal ring in some kind of way."
Other people in line had their own take on why they got up in the cold to come here. Jennifer Caballini said that all political figures have good and bad to them, and that in addition to the good things Richardson did, he also made some questionable calls. But his legacy is important, she said, and she wanted to check out the things this historic figure left behind.
Stephen Etre, of Stephen's A Consignment Gallery, gave out numbered tickets starting at 7.30 a.m. At 9 a.m., once a crowd of several hundred people had gathered, Etre hopped up on a chair.
"Good morning everybody," he cried over the buzz. "Welcome to the Governor Bill Richardson sale."
He explained the sale came about after Richardson's widow, Barbara, realized the lease was soon to be up on his office at The Richardson Center for Global Engagement. She combined its contents with some of his personal possessions to create a sale of about 2,500 items.
Etre said he had known the Richardsons for a long time and helped them furnish their homes.
"We really wanted to handle it in a way that was respectful and honoring the governor, but also that it helped to relieve Barbara of some of the stress that she was under," he said, before saying that only the first 50 people would be allowed into the sale room initially.
As they hurried in, the display formed a glimpse into an opulent and expansive life. There were tapestries and taxidermy, an undulating mass of silky ties in jewel colors, polka dots and paisley. Accolades and awards clustered on his desk, a suit of armor loomed in the background. And dozens of very fancy pens were arrayed in cases (one early arrival said she mainly came because her husband is hard to buy for at Christmas and she thought he might like one of Richardson's Mont Blancs.)
Some people seemed to be dealers, like the man with ticket number one, who headed straight for the glass case where bolo ties gleamed with silver, turquoise and agate, and bought a pile.
But plenty were buying a souvenir of a man they'd known or had a fond recollection of. Jesse Mendoza, who paid $1200 for a saddle inlaid with silver and emblazoned with GOVERNOR RICHARDSON, worked on his security team for more than three years.
"An extremely hard worker," he remembered. "Where he got the energy, I don't know."
David Storch, the one-time Richardson lookalike, did indeed pick up a ring, in fact more than one. And it turns out his feet are the same size as the late governor's: he bought two pairs of velvet slippers. One pair is midnight blue with the sun embroidered on one foot and the moon and stars on the other. The other is black velvet with a red bull on each toe.
"Just wonderful," he said, laughing. His wife added, "only Bill Richardson would have something like this."
Now David Storch has, too.
